Blizzard (The snow kind, not the ice cream kind)
by Suitslover14
Summary: Plotless fun! In which there is thinking in a car while stuck in a snowstorm. I do not own psych


**A/N I was bored and didn't want to do my art project. Enough said, please read.**

Her pink lips shone across her pale skin. And all he could think about were them. Not that they were in a snowstorm, that they were trapped in a car, or that there may be the Russian mob outside. All he could think about was her, how beautiful she looked. How amazingly pretty her eyes were or how much her blonde hair suited her. He couldn't even be bothered to pay attention to the fact that Lassiter was in the backseat, grumbling. All his thoughts were on the detective that he had always loved, and always would. But they weren't there yet. They were friends, colleagues, and she was totally clueless. She didn't know that all he wanted was a date, that she was the only person he ever considered marrying, that she was worth more to him than Gus. But she just thought that their connection was a good base for friends, that all the qualities that she wanted in a man she also wanted in a best friend, and he had them. Oh how he had them, how he was funny and intelligent, how he didn't mind her work hours, or how she would always be a feminist. Women can get their own stuff you know. No, she just loved him as a friend and Shawn knew that, he just didn't want to accept it.

Shawn shook his head to clear his thoughts. They were getting depressing, going into the 'your not good enough' section of his mind, the only insecurities that he had lived there and he really did not want them to be in control. Not when they could either die from the cold, because they just had to run out of gas, or the mob that may or may not still be in the woods. Why the FBI needed them on a case in North Dakota? He had no idea, but Gus had refused to come, and he was left on a plane for 5 hours with Lassiter. The Lassiter that liked crime scenes and saw him as a replacable imbecile. Not as an actual human, just a pain in the ass. And as much as he deflected it, it hurt, the fact that Alssiter didn't even care if he almost got killed-or just a little because it would be _his_ ass on the line- hurt and sometimes he didn't know if he could work there anymore.

It occurred to Shawn that hypothermia was probably starting to set in because he couldn't stop thinking. He couldn't will his brain to slow or make it stop focusing on all the negatives in his life. Plus there was the fact that he was cold, so cold that she was shivering. He looked down, surprised to find how much he was shivering; his bundled figure was blurred, his blue coat being swirled in with his very bright green gloves. He needed to talk to Lassiter in the back seat. He fumbled with the belt, his hands shaking, making it hard for him to unbuckled, and swiveled around.

"L-lassie, I don't think that I'm doing very well. We need to get out before I become a pineapple slushy." Shawn chattered and Lassiter glared. It wasn't very intimidating because Lassiter was shaking too, even though he was the one who had a camping coat in and a hat and a scarf. _A scarf_! And he was the one who was cold.

"How do you propose we do that, Spencer, hijack a bear?" Lassiter snapped.

"I don't know all that I know is that I am cold, and that you are too, and if we are both cold then we most likely will die from hypothermia. Not to mention Juliet, who looks positively freezing next to me. "Shawn replied, shrugging off his coat-the only thing keeping him warm-and laying it on Juliet's convulsing shoulders.

"You don't have to." Juliet told Shawn, trying to give back his blue coat, but the psychic glared and Juliet took it. If he didn't mean it, how wouldn't of taken off his only source of heat.

"I radioed for backup 20 minutes ago but if you haven't noticed, we are in the middle of the woods in nowhere, North Dakota." Lassiter replied, looking frustrated and furious all at the same time. Which made Shawn wonder if he still had his gun, and if he was planning on using it on him, who was being a pan in the ass. So Shawn just shut his mouth and gazed out his window.

It was pouring snow out in the woods and they couldn't see anything, just a wall of white, white, white. The woods that they knew were about 3 feet ahead was gone, and it felt to Shawn that he was in the time machine from that one SpongeBob episode. With the white room that filled with the colorful words from Squidward's mouth. He smiled, wishing that he could fill the sky with the pink would love, or the purple word beautiful, or even a yellow one that said pineapple, because pineapples make everything better. Even being stuck in the blizzard, without a coat, and basically with the grim reaper trying to figure out a way to break into the car. Plus, the mob did have guns and a bullet is not stopped with snow. They fire in the right spot, even blindly, one of them might end up staining the sky red with the word blood, or grey with the word dying, or even blue with the word cyanotic.

"Spencer!" Lassiter yelled and Shawn blinked, his mind so slow from the cold.

"Y-yes?" Shawn stuttered, utterly confused at the confused look on Lassie's face.

"Breathe!" Lassiter commanded and Shawn noticed for the first time that he had been hyperventilating.

"You okay, Shawn?" Juliet piped in, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of the two coats. She was the only one who wasn't shivering in the car and Shawn started to think about that. About how if she was the only one to survive she would have to eat and so she would have to eat him or Lassie or both, but one of them had to go first and with Lassie being her partner she would probably try to go a long time before eating him and Shawn was just the annoying psychic who didn't have a gun and they did and heck they could shoot him now and dump him in the snow and claim it was the mob's fault and his chest felt tight and was that normal and who was yelling and he forgot how to breathe again and his vision faded to black at the sounds of two very concerned SBPD officers.

The blackness felt good; there was nothing cold in the blackness just a dark surface that you could skim upon. Resting and above you were stars, lights from the world. Little snippets of sound and pictures. And above Shawn there were stars, stars of the car. The voices from the detectives but there were others too. Like flashlights hitting the car from the back-up that had finally found them. Like the blue and red sirens that were there, with paramedics which rushed upon the car. There was the air that was forced into Shawn's lungs and the piercing shrill of a stopped heart. There was the dripping of IV's and the sound of an electric shock. There was the feeling of electricity coursing through his veins. And there was the feeling, the feeling that people cared about him, that he needed to live. So he willed himself to live. And the last star, the last star was of a beating heart and the tears of relief it brought.

There was just one problem; he could only will it to beat so long. The rest was up to God and his plan. And depending on his plan, the heart could stop again and forever, again and restart, or just keep beating. But something told Shawn that it would just keep beating, forever and ever, for love and loss and everything in between it would just keep beating.

**A/N I know, it's very spontaneous and doesn't really have a plot. But the best stories don't have plots, they just have words. Anyway, please review. And maybe just maybe, there will be a psych movie in the future. **


End file.
